Sweeter than Heaven and Hotter than Hell
by Mia-Zeklos
Summary: In the days after Berlin, the Doctor takes her to travel with him every now and then.


**Author's Notes: I haven't written this pairing in a while, so opinions are welcome. I've been meaning to write an actual meta-y post-Berlin fic since forever, but this is actually written for that very prompt (Eleven and Mels post-Berlin from his point of view) in the River Song ficathon. I hope you guys enjoy it!**

In the days after Berlin, the Doctor takes her to travel with him every now and then. He never tells Amy and Rory because he's just a little bit selfish when it comes to River's attention and because he doesn't want to scare them. And while they'd be scared to see their daughter like that, the Doctor himself is terrified.

She's young and fascinating and half mad with kindness and bloodthirst united into one, and he can't recognise her. Or what's worse, he can. His River kills when she needs to and loves adventures as much as he does; this one kisses him under burning skies and drags him to the most dangerous corners of the Universe, laughing as they barely make it out alive. She looks him in the eye and her declaration of love is, "I'd kill for you" and he still recognises her. He still loves her, and it's scaring the living daylights out of him.

"Come on," she whispers in his ear one night as they both lay in his bed. Her breath is warm as it tickles his skin and he shivers. "I can see it in your eyes. You want this, so why don't you just come and take it?"

"It doesn't work like that," the Doctor says, although it does, at least for her.

"Why not?" She breathes, pressing against him lightly, just enough for him to hiss as she rubs against him in all the right ways. "Why would you deny yourself something like this?"

"Because you're too young," the Doctor protests feebly, his hands reaching up to rest on her hips. Not trying to push her away, no, but just for the sake of the contact, and she laughs and her lips brush his jaw. "Melody–"

And just like that, she's gone. He misses her warmth immediately and he turns to the side to see her curled up on the bed with her back to him. "Did I say something wrong?" he asks softly, putting a hand on her shoulder only to have her shrug it off.

"When you call me Melody, it means that you'll start treating me like a child," she says coldly and he reaches to her again. This time she doesn't push him away and he dares to see it as progress.

"Believe me," he starts awkwardly as he tries to shift on the bed to a position that's more comfortable given his current– excitement. "The way I'm feeling about you right now says something else entirely."

The only thing he gets in response is an angry huff.

"River, are you– Are you _sulking_?" He asks incredulously, voice rising slightly in disbelief. He catches himself a second too late, but it's impossible to call her anything else when she's being so River-y.

"I'm not sulking," she says, sitting up to face him. "I'm just trying to figure out what on Earth do you want from me."

"You're not obliged to do anything you don't want to," he hurries to assure her and she laughs.

"I know. It's just, I know that you want this and you want it with this body, but not with me. It's always about River."

"It's–" the Doctor stumbled over his own words for a moment. "You're River. There's no test that determines when you turn into River Song. I'm not trying to get to fit in someone else's shoes. If anything, I'm trying to let you embrace a pair of shoes as your own." She looks like him like she'll burst out laughing any second; mirth shining in her eyes and her lips fighting back a smile. "Sorry, that was– What I'm trying to say is, no matter what you call yourself, you're River to me. No matter what you do, I'll keep on loving you because I can't help it." He can hear the helplessness in his own voice. "I can't help it, _Melody_ , and it's driving me insane."

"You don't need to do anything about it," River says and she's on top of him once more, her weight comforting against his body as her fingers, as delicate as a spider web, explore the contours of his face. "I told you before; you want me, so come and get me." There's a wicked glint in her eyes that challenges him and tempts him all at once.

"Mel–" He's torn and he can hear the conflict in his own voice, longing and eagerness to do the right thing fighting in every syllable of her name. She's dazzling – too beautiful to be real, with her honey-like hair falling around her face and tickling his skin – and his breath catches in his throat. His hands leave her hips and stray up her body, where the corset she's wearing today pushes her full breasts up. It's unfathomable, at least to him, how she can run around all day in something as constrictive as that, but he appreciates the effect nevertheless.

River's breathing hitches and she closes her eyes as his hands find their destination. "What is it?" the Doctor asks slyly with a shiver of his own when his fingers brush over that soft, soft skin. Her pale body shines like a pearl in the darkness and she looks like an ancient goddess of lust – her eyelids with enough make up to shift colours when the light changes, her long eyelashes fluttering closed and her plump lips in the shape of Cupid's bow.

"Nothing," River whispers. "I'm just–"

And this is when the Doctor flips them over, finally taking the control she'd offered him, and there's no more time for talking.

 **o.O.o**

"No, not like this," the Doctor says, stopping her in her tracks. She glares at him as she presses the pen even harder against the sheet of paper. "You're doing it wrong and what you're currently writing is something that I can't even say out loud."

River's interest peaks up immediately. "Why, what is it?"

"I'm not teaching you Gallifreyan so you can swear in it, Mel," the Doctor retorts indignantly, but allows himself a smile. "You'll have to figure it out by yourself. There are enough books and dictionaries in the library."

He's propped his feet against the console and has sprawled himself in his chair as he watches her progress. Right now, the closed doors don't look as tempting; he doesn't want to open them and see what's out there. He'd just let the TARDIS wander about in the Vortex and started giving River her third lesson in Gallifreyan. For once, he's content to just sit there.

There had been no other name-related problems when he'd taken to calling her Mel. He still can't quite bring himself to call her River; not out loud, anyway, not when she takes a second or two before she reacts to it – but Mel seems to be fine. No one of importance's called her that before and she seems pleased with it. He can't really blame her – River still makes her feel a bit on edge and Melody (at least when it comes from him) pisses her off – so he settles on that and he'd finally found peace despite the fact that that hurricane of a woman still drives him mad on daily – and hourly – basis.

But it still feels unfinished. The first time he'd called her Mel had been in the darkness of his bedroom and it had been an unfinished name for an unfinished person and touching her still feels like cheating. Not cheating on her but cheating in general – he's trying to win himself as much time with her as he can and it's still never enough. With every second passing they're running out of time and he can't let himself waste any time, even if he has to smother the feeling that she looks at him with all the love in the world and still doesn't really know who he is.

"This alphabet is ridiculous," River announces and slouches insolently in her chair, oblivious to the fact that she'd saved him from descending in a pit of equations he could never actually solve. She has a habit of doing that, whenever she is in her timeline – saving him without realising it has become to feel like somewhat of a trademark for her, the Doctor thinks ruefully. "You can't convince me that there are Time Lords who live their whole lives on Gallifrey for thousands of years and write like this every single day."

"I can't because I'd be lying," the Doctor admits. "Okay, let's try something else." He grabs the pen and the paper from her hand and starts drawing the familiar long, swirly lines in the top left corner. "What about this one?"

This one seems to be easier to accept. "What is that?"

"It's old time Gallifreyan," the Doctor says and gently takes her hand in his so that she can mimic his movements. He sees the small, reluctant smile that curls her lips and feels a smile appear in response. "You like that one better, don't you?"

"Yes," she nods and bats his hand away to try her own method in it. The lines that come out from under her pen are slightly unsure and so heart-warmingly new that the Doctor's smile widens and he tries to suppress the urge to kiss her. It's not that he hasn't done it already; it's something entirely different – she's learning something that means a lot to her and it means just as much – if not more – to him too, so the sight is beautiful. Sometimes the Universe can be a terribly lonely place, what with him being the last one of his kind and whatnot, but how can he feel lonely when there's someone wonderful and brilliant and full of hope that's ready to share his knowledge and enhance it?

And it's not just that – when he looks at River, all he can see is the bright, honest curiosity in her eyes. There are no more shadows and no more pain and while he's sure that they're still out there – she can't have handled all of her problems in the matter of days; can't have sorted out the mess in her head quite so fast – but she's learnt to handle it and for now, that's enough. Even if it stays like that for good, it's still enough – God knows they're equally troubled, albeit for different reasons and the Doctor doesn't think he'll ever figure out how to fix everything that had happened to him so far – and he loves her for it. Loves her more than when she'd tried to seduce him and more than all the times she'd made his heart race and his mind fear for their lives. The emotion he feels right now is so uncomplicated and so easy that he relaxes in his chair once more and lets out a small sigh of relief.

"What's the matter with you today?" River asks, amused, and he raises an eyebrow in question. "You're all... I don't know. I thought you'd enjoy the role of the strict teacher."

The Doctor refuses to raise to the bait but smiles at her once more nevertheless; tight-lipped despite the sudden rush of freedom he's just experienced. "I'm fine," he assures her and puts his feet back on the ground, dragging his chair closer to hers, looking at her notes and thinking of something else entirely. "I was just admiring you."

"What for?" River asks and she looks genuinely confused for the first time since he's known her.

"Look at you," he nods to the alphabet but his eyes never leave hers. "I'm admiring how far you've gone."


End file.
